


Rogaine I and II

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:57:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Mulder and Skinner have a shattering encounter with Krycek.





	Rogaine I and II

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Rogaine, Rats, and Baseball Bats by Ethan Nelson

Rogaine, Rats, and Baseball Bats  
by Ethan Nelson

Howdy! I didn't know there was a Valentine's Day Challenge when I started this, so I apologize in advance for any cheese-master parts. I also apologize for the gratuitous unlicensed usage of lyrics, and yes, here is the disclaimer: all characters contained herein are the property of Fox Television and ten Thirteen productions, and are used without permission and with no hope of making any cash. There you go a go-go.

Ethan.

* * *

Alex Krycek had never much enjoyed doing stakeouts. He had done them for numerous agencies, watching numerous places and numerous people, but no matter who he worked for or why, every damned one of them was exactly the same. Hours of tedium, hours of inactivity, and the closest thing to a highlight in the evening was a good crossword puzzle or an encore broadcast of Alan Jackson singing "I'm In Love With You Baby, But I Don't Even Know Your Name." If he was *very* lucky, he was saddled with a sidekick. Invariably this was some dimwit who either talked too much, not enough, or talked about nothing but women and cars. Alex liked women and cars as much as anyone, but they hadn't been the driving force in his life since he was about sixteen. The Bay City Rollers had seemed important then, too. To him, it defied explanation how a grown man could talk about these things for hours on end. He had no patience for it. More than once it had seemed almost worth certain retribution simply to shoot such a man. Almost.

If someone had told him even a month before that he would someday be on a stakeout voluntarily, he would have laughed and called them the vilest things he could think of. Surely a man would have to be unbalanced to use a rare day off to keep tabs on a housebound octogenarian, let alone a man who would gladly see him flayed alive and dipped in vinegar. Yet there he was, sitting in a Ford Tempo just after midnight, watching Fox Mulder's apartment like it was Brigadoon and he would miss it if he blinked.

None of the curtains were open. The most he could determine was that one room was dimly lit. Had to be the bedroom. Though as far as he knew, Mulder had forgotten he had one. Alex wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but his instincts were sound and he trusted them totally. Of course, he wasn't sure why he had come, either. Or else he was but he chose not to think of it. An imperative from above, then. He simply watched, and waited, as if some great unquestionable sign would appear and he would know his time had come.

It was on occasions like this, when he had no-one to talk to and nothing to do, that he allowed his mind to wander. This was a luxury that most of the time, he didn't even afford himself when he was drifting off to sleep. But it was late, and it was raining out, and suddenly having only himself for company didn't seem as romantic to him as it often did. His thoughts drifted. He was in an unfinished house, losing his virginity to a boy who was so beautiful he still ached to remember him. He was living on the streets in the Bronx, mugging hookers to stay alive. He was in Tunguska, locked up in a stinking cell with Mulder and lying his ass off to everyone in sight.

Mulder. It all came down to him. As if it wasn't bad enough that the agent himself considered himself to be the center of the universe, now it appeared that he was. To Alex, anyway. How could he deny it? He had fought his way back into the US, fought his way back into the good graces of his employers, and now when everything was still so delicate that he checked beneath his car before he left each morning, he was parked outside Mulder's apartment building, staring up at a useless window like some kind of inept and slack-brained peeping Tom. There had to be more to life than this.

He took to fiddling with his radio dial, the idea being that he would continually change stations in search of decent songs. He and Mulder had done something similar as partners, trying to gain points by guessing the artist and the year the song was released. He had learned quickly how pointless it was to play such a game with a man with an eidetic memory. Finally he settled on a country-ish song. k.d. lang, one of his favorites.

Starving, I've got this hunger  
growling from deep within  
carving internal thunder  
a craving that wears me thin  
it's hard to ingest so many faces  
I get my fill, but still, those passers-by  
leave me empty on a diet of strange places  
that all should enhance my senses  
oh why does the spice of loneliness seem all but tasteless  
find yourself to haunt me from inside  
Leaves me starving, I've got this hunger  
growling from deep within  
carving an internal thunder  
a craving that wears me thin  
Many a trap are set and baited  
the tension and temptation of the game  
the ones who are fit are those who waited  
take down the line, leave the curbed and tamed  
only time will find me home and safely sated  
until that time, I will remain  
Starving, I've got this hunger  
growling from deep within  
carving internal thunder  
a craving that wears me thin.

Alex figured he could die happy with his head in her lap, and her singing to him as he went. Until then, however, he decided this was as close to a sign as he was likely to get. He was going in.

Mulder's building was quiet. All the geezers and crack-heads had already settled in for the night. Staying quiet was something that didn't require conscious thought. Skulking came to Alex naturally. He was gifted. In spite of the fact that the hallways and stairwells were deserted, he kept to the shadows. One never knew. He was halfway up the stairs that led to Mulder's floor when the door that led there swung open and Walter Skinner walked through. Alex shrank back, breathing hard.

This is stupid, he thought. I'm the one with the gun. He didn't want to shoot the bald bastard, though. Not yet, anyway. And he knew he could hold his own in a fight, but he didn't know that he could win. Skinner was the biggest guy he had ever seen outside of the World Wrestling Federation. What the hell was he doing at Mulder's place at this hour? If he let the man go, he had to worry that he'd return. Skinner came closer, and there was no more time to think. Alex crept up behind him and clubbed him over the head with his gun. The AD hit the ground like King Kong, and Alex looked back up the stairs, cursing. He was going to spend himself just dragging the Incredible Hulk back up to Mulder's place. He had no choice, though.

Alex hoisted Skinner under his arms, groaning. "Goddamned folically-challenged fat-head," he muttered. At least it was only one flight. The guy weighed at least five hundred pounds. All in all, Alex could think of several more pleasant ways to while away an evening.

By the time he made it to the hallway, he was dragging the man by his arms, heedless of the noise. There was no silent way to do it, so he didn't even attempt it. He could only pray Mulder didn't leap out into the hallway, gun drawn, caustic remark already forming on his lips. This was the first break he'd had all night.

Mulder's door was unlocked, which struck Alex as beyond strange. The guy was so paranoid that Alex had seen him toss out a bottle of orange juice that had been out of his sight for less than three minutes. Leaving his door unlocked was tantamount to Pope John Paul pissing on the Gutenberg Bible.

Alex left Skinner on Mulder's living room floor and began scouting out the apartment. The kitchen was vacant. Likewise the bathroom. That left the bedroom. He knew Mulder better than the man realized. Even if he was half-asleep, naked, and strung out on grass, Mulder was not a man to be easily fucked with. He crept into the bedroom as if he expected poison darts to shoot from the walls at any moment. And promptly froze in shock.

Mulder lay sprawled out on his bed. Naked, blindfolded, and handcuffed to the headboard, he looked completely relaxed, a soft smile playing across his lips. Candlelight gave his skin a sensual glow it just didn't have in full daylight, and his nightstand bore a tube of Astroglide and two glasses of red wine. My my my, Alex grinned. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Alex looked back into the living room. Skinner hadn't moved at all. This was without a doubt the strangest thing that had ever happened to Alex. He had had things go in some way other than his plan before, and granted, he hadn't really had much of a plan to begin with in this case. Come upstairs. Try to talk to Mulder. Don't get killed. Whatever he had imagined, though, whatever he had fantasized about on other occasions, this was absolutely the last thing he'd expected to find coming here. He stared at Mulder, his throat going dry. There he was. Waiting. And here he was. Willing...

"Walter, come on. I'm going crazy."

Not yet. But you will. His mind made up, Alex crossed the room to where Mulder lay and sat down at the edge of the bed. Dipping a finger in the wine, he rubbed it across the agent's lower lip. His smile broadened. Alex leaned down and licked his mouth clean, deepening the caress to a kiss. Mulder raised his head, seeking more, and Alex obliged, his tongue sliding into the agent's mouth, teasing him. He pulled back and Mulder followed for a second before collapsing into his pillow.

Alex dipped into the wine again, this time tracing Mulder's nipple. The agent gasped, arching into Alex's hand. He grinned. Mulder was a sensualist. He knew he had done nothing to deserve something like this. Mulder must have really pissed somebody off. Alex bent to his chest and licked the nipple delicately, ending on a bite.

"Do that again," the agent said. By way of reply, Alex got up and left him there. He hadn't intended to leave Skinner alone for such a long time. This was what came of letting your mind wander. If this hadn't been the luckiest night of his life, the AD would have come to and broken him in half by now.

A brief hunt through the apartment turned up a great length of orange extension cord, a dish rag, and some duct tape. Perfect. It was amazing what sorts of everyday objects you could use for this kind of activity. He was the Martha Stewart of the criminal community. He was still tying Skinner up when the AD stirred. Alex thrust his gun into Skinner's face before his eyes had even completely focused.

"You make a sound, and he's dead. Nod if you understand." Skinner nodded. "Good." He stuffed the dish rag into the AD's mouth and secured it with the duct tape. "Let's go." He led his captive back into the bedroom and motioned for him to sit in the lone chair. Using what remained of the extension cord, he tied Skinner down. *Nice job, man.* Skinner's eyes were on Mulder. The agent squirmed on the bed, smiling lazily, displaying a very respectable erection. Alex smiled. The AD knew what was about to take place. He had a very expressive face; Alex had never noticed that before. Part of him was in a blind rage. Part was jealous that he wasn't the one leaning over the bed.

Alex made a show of setting his gun on the nightstand. Given enough time, Skinner would eventually free himself. Alex didn't want him to try too hard. Dipping his finger into the wine a third time, Alex ran it along the head of Mulder's cock. The agent drew a quick breath, bucking into Alex's hands. Wetting the finger again, he traced Mulder's length down to the root, massaging his balls when he got there.

Mulder shuddered. "Walter, I--" Alex kissed him then, sealing the agent's mouth firmly with his own. He sucked Mulder's tongue into his mouth, biting it gently before releasing it. He turned back to Skinner. Their eyes locked.

You do this, Skinner's said, and you'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.

I do this, and so will you.

Alex thrust his tongue into Mulder's ear, running it along the shell, nibbling on his lobe. He ran kisses along the agent's jaw and repeated his actions on the other ear before kissing his way down Mulder's neck.

"You've been practising," Mulder said. Alex frowned. This idea had come to him so suddenly, he had never considered that Mulder might notice the difference. "Don't stop."

Alex bent to him again, kissing down to his chest, tonguing a nipple. A body as beautiful as this one was meant to be worshipped. It was inconceivable to him that Skinner, given the opportunity, had neglected to do so. He stroked Mulder's sides, kneading his flesh, running his hands down to the agent's hips and lingering there. Mulder wiggled. Alex hadn't forgotten the wine he'd left glistening on Mulder's cock, and apparently, neither had he.

Holding his hips down, Alex kissed Mulder's stomach, nipping at his abs, tonguing his navel. The agent yanked viciously at his handcuffs, rattling the headboard. Alex released him and kissed him hotly. Mulder let out a low, desperate moan. Alex pulled away and began to disrobe, standing back so he could watch both men at once.

"Walter, you can't leave me like this." Alex dropped his pants. "What are you doing?" He took off his boxers. "If you're putting on a French Maid's costume, I'm breaking up with you."

Alex sat beside him on the bed and looked his fill. He wanted to remove the blindfold. He wanted to see Mulder's eyes. He really had amazing eyes. But that smile was not for him. Nor Mulder's entreaties, nor his erection. Skinner deserved this, he decided. The man was a prick, and unappreciative, besides. Alex needed to do it, but Skinner needed to watch.

He stroked Mulder's chest, eliciting a throaty moan from the agent. Bracing his hands on either side of Mulder's torso, he licked the head of the agent's cock. Mulder came off the bed before Alex's tongue had even made it once around.

"*Walter.*" He sucked the head into his mouth, working it with his tongue, savoring the combined tastes of the wine, pre-ejaculate, and something essentially Mulder. Alex licked his way down the shaft, mouthing Mulder's balls when he reached them. A man could get drunk this way, he thought. And there can't be a better way to do it.

"Oh God," Mulder moaned. "Oh..." Relaxing his throat, Alex took the agent's cock all the way into his mouth, sucking now hard, now soft, until Mulder was rocking his hips back and forth and moaning more or less continuously. "I'm going to get you for this," he gasped. Alex froze. "You bastard, don't stop... *Walter*..."

Alex shot the AD a look. What kind of sick relationship did these two have, anyway? He hoped those knots held. Skinner was going to feed Alex his own genitalia if he got free now. He took Mulder's cock back into his mouth, sucking, nipping. Each time he felt Mulder close to coming, he eased off, until the agent was reduced to a whimper.

"Stop teasing me," he begged. "God, please..." Alex reached for the Astroglide. Skinner jerked in the chair. Alex gave him a sharp look, his smile never faltering, and reached for his gun. Taking its butt, he stroked it from Mulder's neck down to his feet. Tracing lazy sex patterns on his skin.

"Christ that's cold. What the hell is that?"

Alex squirted some of the lubricant into his hands, fighting the urge to hum. This fit right in with the pattern of his entire life, he realized. He could take what he wanted and risk his health doing it, or he could do without. And no matter what, he never did without. He knew without a doubt that Mulder would never again be begging him to suck his cock.

He parted Mulder's legs and slid a single finger deep inside his ass. The agent sighed happily, angling his hips for better penetration. *Oh, Jesus, this is too good to be true.* He half-expected either to wake up or to find himself full of holes when somebody came in and shot him. On any other day, this was right around the time Scully would show up. Alex slid a second finger into Mulder's ass, scraping across his prostate. Mulder let out an agonized cry, bucking against him. *Take it easy.*

"Walter... shit..." they found a rhythm between the two of them, Alex setting the pace, Mulder eagerly following it. He obviously wanted more out of the encounter, and Alex wanted to supply it, but he wanted to make this experience one to remember, in every sense. His own cock was rock hard and becoming more painful with every moan Mulder let out. He could feel Skinner's eyes boring into him, and that made a difference, too, but he wasn't quite done playing with Mulder yet.

"Take off the cuffs," he moaned. "I want to touch you."

Alex took Mulder's cock into his mouth, never faltering in his assault on the agent's ass. Mulder convulsed. Alex sucked, as hard as he could, moving his fingers faster now, trying to finish him off. The agent thrashed in his arms, the handcuffs rattling. "Please... oh, *Christ...*" Mulder stiffened thoroughly, his breath coming out of him in a soft keen. Alex kept swallowing, over and over, until Mulder had ridden out the orgasm and lay still on the bed, breathing hard, his skin sheened with sweat.

"Walter," he said on a shuddering sigh. "You aren't exactly the most selfless lover I've ever had. What are you going to do to me?"

Alex sat on the edge of the bed, watching Skinner, licking his lips. He knew he wore a satisfied smile. Mulder was a furnace in bed. He never would have guessed. The slightest touch ignited the man. He had never seen anyone so responsive in his life.

"You know, I don't want to criticize, but in a situation like this, I'm supposed to be the one wearing the gag."

Alex gave the thought serious consideration. At least then the man would shut up for five minutes and let him think. He stood, stretched. Paced the room. Skinner was watching him. Watching Mulder. Alex could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. It was kind of an iffy situation. You'd think a man would know his own lover, after all. He sipped from the unused glass of wine and watched his captives squirm.

"Walter?" He sounded uncertain now. As if he was afraid the AD had left him there. Alex wasn't surprised. The dumb bastard had already done it once.

Setting down his glass, Alex mounted the bed and settled himself in between Mulder's legs. He set the agent's legs over his shoulders, stroking his thighs. Mulder grinned at him now.

"I knew you couldn't resist me," he said. "Admit it. You need me like you need air. Like you need to need to abuse and degrade your subordinates. Like--" he sucked in a breath as Alex penetrated him. "Like... oh..."

Here it was. The big payoff. Mulder was so tight, so hot, so responsive... and this was the greatest thing he had ever felt in his life. Nothing else could hope to compare. Mulder was using his internal muscles to milk him as he thrust, gripping the headboard rails as if the handcuffs alone couldn't contain him. The agent thrust against him, faster and faster, moaning, begging, commanding, and it was so intense, so overwhelming. With every stroke, Alex had to fight to remind himself not to make a sound. He gripped Mulder's hips and fucked him, frantic now, eager, anxious. This was good, but his orgasm was going to knock him unconscious. He could feel it building inside him.

Mulder rocked against him, trying to intensify the contact, his cries growing steadily louder as he barked out instruction. Faster, Walter. Harder, Walter. If Alex never heard Skinner's name again, he would die a happy man. Still, he obliged, determined to make this as good for Mulder as it was for him. Alex gripped Mulder's cock and stroked it roughly, his hips slamming against the agent's own so hard now that he was actually pushing Mulder up off the bed.

"Yes! Oh Christ, oh God, *yes!*" Mulder came a second time just as Alex was about to begin his first. He bucked, thrusting gracelessly now, struggling not to moan. There was a burst of color behind his eyes, a moment of complete thoughtlessness, and then, the collapse. He landed on top of Mulder with a wet smack.

Mulder laughed, weakly. "If you fall asleep on me, you're a dead man."

He lay there for a long moment, catching his breath, savoring the feel of sweat cooling on his back, the smell of Mulder's skin, the last of his orgasm. He stroked Mulder's face, kissed him softly. He had had enough to say before he had even walked in the room, and now... Now he had to get the hell out of there. Before Skinner got free. Before someone noticed his car abandoned on the street.

Alex rolled off of Mulder and started dressing. Skinner looked defeated somehow, beneath the murderous glare he cast at Alex as he buttoned up his shirt. Too late, he thought. He won't be happy about it, but he's going to think about it every time you kiss him, every time you touch him. Too late.

"Walter?" Alex looked at him. He wore a sated smile. "Take the blindfold off. I want to look at you."

Alex put his jacket on and returned to Mulder's side. With tremendous care, he slipped the blindfold from the agent's face. His eyes were wide. His mouth fell open. He turned his head quickly and took in the sight of Walter strapped to a chair and gagged.

 

* * *

 

Okay. It's not mandatory that you read "Rogaine, Rats, and Baseball Bats" before you read this, but it would certainly help. Not that I'm anyone to tell you what to do. There's a chintzy spoiler for "Memento Mori" contained herein. Also heaps of naughty words and scenes you should probably not be reading to the kids over that hot cup o' Ovaltine. Oh yeah. This is also Angst O Rama. Just so you know.

* * *

Rainy Day G-Men  
by Ethan Nelson

In his mind, he heard the relentless beat of Patti Smith's "Gone Again." It was like a piledriver, bang bang bang bang. Over and over, that angry, mournful voice that so reflected his feelings. It did no good to turn on the stereo. For some sick reason, the music in his head only increased in volume, as if he was conducting a stereo fight with the neighbors on party night. 

He lay on his sofa, blanket pulled over his head, arm thrown over his eyes. The video reception in his head was high quality, too. For a long time, there wasn't much to see. But he could feel, he could feel it like it was happening still. Gentle, indulgent, *worshipful* hands manipulating his flesh expertly, bringing him the the brink again and again. A hot, sensuous, knowing mouth touching him in ways he could scarcely begin to articulate, kissing him, caressing him. Then he was entered, *made love to,* comprehensively, and for the first time in his life he thought he might lose consciousness from the intensity of his orgasm. No other experience he'd ever had could even touch it. Then the blindfold had come off and he'd known the man he'd thought had given him this amazing gift was not the man he'd thought it was.

Now it was Monday, and Fox Mulder had not gone into work.

Just beneath the music and the remembered sensation, he could hear his own cries, his own pleas, his own praise. He could hear himself calling out the wrong man's name, and he would retch to think of it now, but he had done it too often already and there was nothing left in him to expel.

Somehow, the worst of it lay not in what had been done to him, but in how it had affected his lover. Somehow it was not so much that he had been such a willing participant in his own violation, but that Walter had been forced to watch the whole thing. Fucking Krycek, Mulder snarled in his mind. It wasn't enough to fuck the body. He had to fuck the mind.

Mulder had lain there for the better part of two hours while Walter struggled to free himself. Two hours spent naked and handcuffed to his headboard, with Krycek's sweat and semen drying on his skin. Walter had been gagged, but his eyes had been very articulate. For his part, Mulder had been unable to say a thing. It took all his energy not to weep.

What with one thing and another, the binding, the hospital, he had spent the better part of the evening with Walter. And in that time, the man never spoke a word. Mulder wanted to know what was going through his lover's head, but there was too much going on in his own.

He'd enjoyed it. That was the hell of it. Krycek had touched him as no-one had ever touched him, not even the psychic he'd been with all those years ago. Krycek had had a knowing touch. As if he was a function of Mulder's fantasy. He'd lain there, thinking these were Walter's hands, and blessing Fellation: the Greek God of Fornication for his good fortune. It had not occurred to him for a moment to wonder why things were different. He had said the cosmic yes and let his body take care of itself.

It wasn't until later, laying on his sofa, that he had begun to wonder if some part of him hadn't known all along. The kisses were different, the hands different, even the sex act had not been the same. A different twist of the hips, maybe. Of all the people in the world who could have found him bound and blinded, why in the name of Christ had it been Alex Krycek?

Everything he had been working for with Walter had been gone in an instant. The AD was betrayal in the flesh, and Mulder felt as guilty as if he had invited Krycek over and applied the handcuffs himself. Both men knew the situation was not what they thought it was. Intellectually, that was clear. Mulder would never have bedded Krycek voluntarily, whether he knew the best sex of his life beckoned or not. He certainly would never have been unfaithful to Walter, with anyone. Yet every time he thought of it, he came back to the image of himself, begging Krycek to suck him off, and he knew by Walter's expression that he did, too. And that was what should have tipped him off. Walter would rather walk out on him than have him beg. Yet he had done it repeatedly, without thinking, and the man he'd thought was Walter had never said a word.

Somebody banged on his door. "Fuck off," he grumbled. Another bang. He hoped today was the day someone had come to kill him. He didn't have the energy to do it himself.

"Mulder?" Scully. Shit. "Mulder, I know you're in there. Are you okay?"

He summoned up a weak smile. "I'm fine. Go home."

She unlocked his door. "Mulder?"

"Scully, come on." He heard her footfalls, and his blanket was pulled back to expose his head. He flinched. "I would have thought it was obvious that I wanted to be alone."

She crouched down beside him, her face full of concern. "You look horrible. How do you feel?"

He pulled the blanket back into position. "Go home." She stood and did a tour of his apartment. He knew what she would find. A phone unplugged, a phone turned off, his answering machine departed from this mortal coil.

"Mulder, what's going on?"

"I can't talk about it."

"Did something happen with Skinner?"

*Yes, Scully, he handcuffed me to my bed, and in the five minutes he was gone, Alex Krycek knocked him out and dragged him back here. Then he tied Walter up and fucked me senseless. And I liked it. I didn't know it was him, because, you know, I was also blindfolded at the time, but I liked it.* Nah. She'd be more receptive to the idea that he had been in a nuclear accident and was slowly turning into a fly.

"Mulder?"

"Not tonight, Scully. Please."

"All right. When you're ready." She patted his head through the blanket. "Are you coming in tomorrow?"

"No."

He could almost hear her nostrils flaring. "Are you resigning?"

"No."

She sighed heavily. "Call me when you feel up to it. Okay?"

"Thanks."

After she was gone, he regretted sending her away. Having her to play off of, having her to tough love him into talking, somehow had taken his mind off of things for a minute. After she was gone, his brain gremlins turned up the Patti Smith and had at it again.

There had been no hesitation in Krycek at all, no clumsiness, no uncertainty. Was it possible to be dispassionate when you touched someone with such familiarity? Had he thought about it? That was too much to take. The very idea that Alex Krycek might have harbored secret fantasies about him through all the mayhem he'd caused, too much to take. The son of a bitch had looked happy enough when he'd left, with Mulder gone slack with satisfaction and shock, and Walter staring at him with eyes full of agony and resignation. Alex had been the happiest man alive. Little wonder, that. He may only have had sex with Mulder, but he had managed to fuck them both. Mulder rolled over and closed his eyes. And against all reason, he fell asleep.

***

"Mulder?" He came awake slowly, the sound of Walter's voice sweet in his ear.

He smiled lazily before he remembered why he should not. "Walter." The AD was still wearing his suit and overcoat. His eyes were shadowed, his jaw tense. He looked wonderful.

"How are you feeling?"

"From a medical standpoint, I've never been better." He rolled off the sofa and stood, creakily. He hadn't been upright since morning, and it was almost morning again. "You want a drink?"

"Beer?"

"I think I've got something." He was walking like a geezer and he knew it, but he didn't care. When he got back, Walter was slumped on the sofa, looking lost. The AD cracked open his can and took a long swallow.

"Take it easy," Mulder said.

Neither man spoke for long, agonizing moments. Mulder just drank Walter in and watched him think, grateful that he had come.

"I can't get it out of my mind," Walter said at last. "While I'm awake it's all I can think about, and when I'm asleep-- *if* I sleep, I've been dreaming it. Him. And you."

"Walter, I didn't--"

"He wanted me to see it. He kept checking to make sure I was watching." He closed his eyes. "He said he'd kill you if I made a sound. He *stroked* you with his gun."

*That's* what that was. "I never--"

"I shouldn't have left you like that. Helpless. Tied up like that, looking like you do, it's an invitation to a man like him."

"Jesus Christ. You can't be blaming yourself."

"If I hadn't left--"

"If you hadn't left he'd probably have shot us both. I'm amazed he didn't do it anyway." He got up and started pacing. Leave it to him to hook up with an even bigger martyr than himself. Well, the hell with it. If they were going to play Guilt, he was damn well going to win. "I should have known it wasn't you."

"Because you liked it?"

"Walter--"

"Mulder--"

"I liked it. I shouldn't have, but I did. All weekend I've been trying to figure out if I knew it wasn't you. It was different, I noticed that. The way he touched me, everything. I think I chalked it up to the situation. You'd never shackled me before, either."

"Now I know why."

"I'm not going to go into that right now." He raked through his hair. "I feel... I feel violated. And dirty. Ashamed. Guilty." Sneezy, Dopey, and Doc.

"I feel betrayed, disgusted, and guilty."

"Well, we have the guilt in common, anyway."

"What do you want to do?"

Go hunting. "Lick my wounds."

"You should enter rape counselling. You know that."

"I don't have the time right now."

"Then make it."

He collapsed at the opposite end of the sofa. "Everything's so fucked up," he said. "The thought of having somebody touch me turns my stomach."

"It's not just about sex, Mulder."

"I know that. I just don't know how you can stand to look at me right now."

"I'm in love with you," he said wearily. "What I want doesn't factor into it."

Mulder stared. "What are you saying?"

"I think you know."

"What, you'll blindly accept whatever I do, no matter how repugnant--"

"You had no choice. Christ, if it was up to me the man would have been dead long before he had the chance to do this to us. I gave him that chance."

"So did I. Every time I let him live. Now I have to examine that mercy a little more closely."

"Living with a secret crush, were you?"

"No." He paused. "I don't think so."

"Shit."

"Walter, do you have any idea what it was like for me? Lying there, watching you?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"You looked so miserable, so angry--"

"Mulder, I don't want to hear this."

"Then what the hell did you come here for? All night, in the car, at the hospital... they put me through a fucking rape kit and you never said a word. You dumped me off and left me alone with this--"

Walter's eyes flashed. "Why did you let him fuck you?" he said. It was a senseless question and he had to know it, but it was out, anyway.

"I was handcuffed!"

"You liked it!"

"I thought it was you!"

"Fuck you, Mulder, you knew it wasn't me!"

"How could I know that?"

"I never touched you like that!"

"I know. I thought I'd won something from Publisher's Clearing House." His eyes widened. "Christ. Walter..."

"Goddamn you, Mulder." His eyes blazed. He reached for Mulder. The agent backed away, unthinking. Walter blinked. "Mulder, I would never--"

"I know. I'm sorry." To his horror, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. If Walter touched him...

The AD folded him into his arms, so gently. Mulder didn't resist. He buried his face in Walter's neck and breathed him in. Cologne, skin, assurance. The agent was shaking, but he wouldn't cry. Not now. Not with Walter. Not over this. He was alive, unharmed, and Walter was there.

"Let it go, Mulder."

"Go fuck yourself," he muttered.

Walter snorted. "That's more like it." He stroked Mulder's back. "It's all right to cry, you know."

"Yeah, well, I envision a return to the days when it was all right not to." Walter held him for a long time, saying nothing. Gradually he began to relax in his lover's arms. His breath evened out. His thoughts were calm for the first time in days. He was all right.

"I could try a new technique," Walter said.

"I don't want you to touch me like he did."

"All right."

Mulder pulled back a little, kissing Walter softly. "I love you."

"I love you back."

"I need you to leave."

"You're sure?"

"I have a few things to take care of. I don't think I'll be back at work before Thursday."

Walter's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to?"

Building a better rat trap. "I thought I'd decoupage my coffee table."

***

Another rainy night in our nation's capital, Alex Krycek mused. With all the rain they'd been getting lately, it was a wonder anybody but him was out this late at night. He enjoyed walking at that hour. He usually had the streets to himself apart from the occasional drunk, and it was easier to spot a potential threat when they had nobody to blend in with. It was in this fashion that he had first spotted Mulder tailing him, more than two hours before. What the man was waiting for was a question God Himself might not be able to answer. Weird. The man was no idiot, Alex knew. It baffled him why Mulder's surveillance was so obvious. If he'd wanted Alex dead he could have emptied his gun on him a dozen times by now. On the heels of this thought came a more compelling idea: maybe Mulder didn't want him dead.

Jesus fucking Christ. One good lay and he was turning into an egomaniac. As if his little surprise could erase everything he'd done. Of course it had. He had betrayed Mulder, murdered both his father and Scully's sister, been instrumental in his partner's abduction (which in turn had led both to her sterility and an inoperable brain tumor) *and* he had abandoned Mulder in Russia to be tortured and killed. But that was all fine by the agent, because man, was Alex ever a great fuck. Right. Mulder was an odd one, but he wasn't deranged.

"Alex!"

Strike that. He *was* deranged. He turned slowly and saw Mulder striding toward him. Alex had a whole new appreciation for the liquid way Mulder moved now that he knew it could be put to good use. "Kind of late to be out for a stroll, isn't it, Mulder?"

"I'm restless," he said. He was breathless, too. His eyes burned Alex to the core. He'd regretted Mulder's blindfold when he'd found him handcuffed to the bed, but he wished for it now. Those amazing eyes.

"Is something bothering you?"

He smirked. "I think you know the answer to that."

Oh. My. God. "How's *Walter*?"

"He's... conflicted." He frowned, glancing quickly around him. "I don't want to talk out in the open like this."

Alex grinned. "You've been following me all night. Are you sure you only want to talk?"

He gave Alex a sheepish look. "Come with me." Mulder led him into an alley. When they were deep inside, the agent pulled him close, kissing him fiercely. Alex moaned into his mouth. Mulder kissed like a tsunami. No-one was safe. People in neighboring towns must feel the shocks. He thrust his tongue into Alex's mouth and reached behind him to grip his ass. Alex wrapped his arms around Mulder's neck and kissed him back. He could hear the hallelujah chorus in the back of his mind. This was too good to last. Mulder wasn't hard yet, but Alex would take care of that. He sucked on Mulder's tongue, rocking his hips slowly against the agent's own. Mulder sighed. Together they fell back against one wall. Mulder crushed Alex against the bricks, cupping his head in his hands. Alex revelled in this change in Mulder. So aggressive, so passionate. The Gods were smiling on him now. Mulder rocked his hips against Alex's, moaning softly, his hands roaming over Alex's chest. Before he knew what was happening, Mulder drew back, gripped Alex's head, and slammed it hard against the wall, once, twice, and then again. Alex felt his legs buckle as he crumpled to the ground. Oh shit, oh fuck, am I ever in trouble...

Mulder knelt down beside him, bringing his face into close focus. "Ward, I think you should have a little talk with the Beav," he said. Alex blacked out.

The first thing he was aware of when he came to was the cold. He was indoors, he was handcuffed to a bed, and he was naked. As his eyes focused and adjusted to the darkness, he saw that it was a bed he had recently come to know very well. He saw that the window was open. His head hurt like a bastard, which pissed him off more than these other setbacks. Broken bones, bullet wounds, these things were negligible. But give him a headache and you could expect a more intelligent response from an eggplant.

He turned his head the other way and tried to sit up. The slightest twitch nauseated him. Mulder must have kicked him in the head a few times after he'd passed out. Son of a bitch. He had finally made what was probably a fatal mistake. Mulder was a lot more manageable tipsy and handcuffed. Unbidden, the lyrics to "Fools Rush In" began to run through his head. Shit.

"You were already a traitor and a murderer, Alex. I shouldn't be surprised that you decided to add rape to your repertoire."

Alex jerked his head in the direction of Mulder's voice. Big mistake. "Mulder," he croaked. "What are you doing?"

The agent pulled his chair to the side of the bed and sat. His eyes glittered in the shadows. "You're some kind of Renaissance felon," he said. "Type A criminal."

"Put away the thesaurus and tell me what you want."

Mulder slapped him. Alex almost laughed in spite of his spinning head and his lurching gut. He had only just come to and Mulder was going to knock him out again. "Have you ever been raped, Alex?"

"No."

"You ever rape anyone before?"

"No."

He laughed humorlessly. "You've certainly got your technique down. For an amateur, I mean. It was a rape, but then it also wasn't, was it? I've been trying to reconcile this in my head."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"In some cultures, they still emasculate rapists. What's your view on that one?"

Alex was getting worried. He spoke so evenly, his voice was so warm, they could have been talking about anything. He could have been trying to seduce his captive instead of terrify him. "Please, whatever you're thinking of doing--"

"Walter doesn't like me to beg. He says it's demeaning. It sounds attractive coming from you, though, I have to admit."

"You're scaring the shit out of me," he said, and for once he was telling the truth. Mulder was mercurial by nature, no matter how expressionless he had become. Always on the keen edge of whatever he was feeling. This detached Mulder, this indifferent Mulder, he was beyond predicting. Alex might have expected to get fucked, he might have expected to have the tar beaten out of him, but he would never have imagined he'd be shackled to Mulder's own bed and spoken to as if they had never met before.

"I want to scare you," he said. "I'd say I wanted you to think about what you'd done, but that's a little too precious for me."

"You're not going to kill me."

"I'm not?"

"You would have done it by now. Today. Last year. The year before. You keep letting me go. Why?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"You can't even explain yourself to yourself, can you?" He was gaining momentum with his confidence. "You're so fucking pathetic, Mulder. After everything I've done to you, after I broke into your apartment and raped you on your own bed in front of your lover, you brought me here to *talk.*"

"Are you trying to get a rise out of me?"

"I already did. I know you can't have forgotten. Granted, you were screaming Skinner's name at the time, but I'll just bet you never come like that for him."

Mulder backhanded him. It wasn't as sickening as before, but he could taste blood in his mouth. "Sore spot, is it? Did you have one of these meaningful discussions with him?"

"Shut up."

"We've established that you aren't going to kill me. Why is that? And don't give me some bullshit story about not wanting to make a martyr of me."

Mulder snorted. "A martyr to what? Rapists And Murderers Union Local 376?"

"Maybe you have another reason for bringing me here," he said. "You could have tied me up anywhere. Why the bed? Why naked?"

"I..."

"Come on, Mulder, don't let that expensive education go to waste. Are you looking for payback, or just a final fling before you condemn yourself to Mister Congeniality?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think I do." He struggled into a sitting position. "You knew, all along."

"No."

"Yes you did. Why lie about it? You knew it wasn't him the minute I first touched you. You were so... surprised. He doesn't touch you like that, does he?"

"You bastard," he said quietly. "You miserable fucking bastard."

Ah. This sounded more like the Mulder he knew. "Why did he leave you like that?"

"He had to get something from the car."

"He left your fucking door unlocked, Mulder. If it had been somebody else walking in on you, they might not have been so considerate of your needs."

"Why did you do it, Alex?"

"I wanted you. That should be obvious enough."

"Why make him watch?"

He smirked. "That I did for the pure evil joy of it. I can't lie to you." He was half-hard, he realized. He really was a sick man. "Why are you complaining, anyway? Didn't I show you a good time?"

"I don't want you."

"Well, you don't want to want me, I'll give you that. How do I compare? I'm guessing he's more on the rough side. That's okay once in a while, but you like something a little more... indulgent. Don't you?"

"You think what you did was acceptable because I enjoyed it?"

"Christ yes."

"Well, fuck you, Krycek. I thought it was him." He got up and began pacing. "He had to watch me, with you, he had to listen to me calling his name, and I fucking thought it was him. He can hardly look at me now."

"I'm heartbroken, Mulder. Really. But if it doesn't work out between you I'd love to take you to dinner."

The agent's head snapped around. He was on Alex in an instant, punching him, again and again. His face was a mask of rage. He called Alex every name he could think of, and maybe it was the concussion, but it seemed to Alex that he'd commenced with making them up after he ran out. By the time Mulder powered out, Alex was seeing stars. He could feel his eye swelling shut. He summoned up a weak laugh. "Jesus. If we were in grade school, you'd be pulling my hair right now." Mulder hit him in the gut. "Why did you bring me here?" Alex wheezed.

Mulder pulled back, appalled. Alex understood him better than he realized. He was no animal. Sooner or later, his humanity always kicked in. The agent stared down at him, breathing hard. A new look came over him. He leaned over Alex again. Touched his face, with exquisite care. Alex shuddered. This was what he'd been craving the last time they'd been together here. Mulder's hands on him. They had always looked like clever hands, and they did not disappoint. The agent stroked his chest, toyed with his nipples. Tested his flesh. Mulder frowned all the while, even as Alex arched into his touch. Pain and pleasure weren't all that different, he mused. Mulder massaged his stomach next, his hand roaming lower, finally coming to rest on Alex's cock. He pulled it experimentally.

"God, *Mulder...*" Mulder gently squeezed his balls. In spite of everything, Alex's hips shot up to intensify the contact. Clever hands.

Mulder bent over him and kissed him again, softer now, trying not to aggravate the lip he'd split. His tongue plundered Alex's mouth, and he lingered there, teasing, still working his cock. Alex was going to come soon. This was too much. He moaned ecstatically into Mulder's mouth, willing to renounce God, country, and his Garth Brooks fan club membership for just a little more... and Mulder pulled away.

"Oh, Christ, not yet."

Mulder laughed. "I *don't* want you."

"What?"

"You're morally bankrupt," he said, grinning madly. "You're too pretty. You're a disgusting human being, a waste of life. You have no fashion sense. You're mean-spirited, ignorant, and small. And you need to tone up."

"Hey, don't hold back, Mulder. Not on my account."

"I haven't been this flaccid since I got a rectal exam from a nurse who looked like Jabba the Hutt."

"What?"

"I've got to go."

"What?"

"I'll be back in a while. I promise to lock the door."

"Mulder!" he shouted. But the son of a bitch had gone. Shit. The least he could have done was turn on the tv.

***

"So, Peter, let me make sure I understand. Did you know you were going to marry Alicia when you first began babysitting her?"

"I knew from the minute I first seen her."

"And how old were you, Alicia?"

"Ten."

Walter Skinner picked up his remote control, then thought better of it and set it down again. He wasn't likely to find anything of a higher quality elsewhere at this hour of the night. As he toyed absently with his watch, he tried to remember his own babysitters. Anna had been kind of attractive. Charlene, not so attractive. But she had given him his way more often than not, which had certainly endeared her to him. Nobody he had wanted to marry, anyway. Except for Mr. Millar, his grade five teacher. Not quite the same thing. He wondered if there was any point in trying to get to sleep. He wondered if Mulder was sleeping now.

All the pain in the world had been in his lover's eyes when he'd left him there. And Mulder, as a rule, carried his pain with him like Jacob Marley's chains, anyway. He was beautiful in sorrow, though, as few men were. It transformed him. He had the look of a bruised angel when he was hurting, and the AD knew he could deny him nothing, nothing at all, if it meant banishing that look from Mulder's eyes. He would lie, he would confess to every unsolved murder that had taken place in the last twenty-five years, he would eat pork rinds and sing "Blue Bayou" on karaoke night, anything.

Somehow images of Monday night had overshadowed the weekend's events in his mind. Where before he had been seething, horrified, angry, where before he'd thought he'd go crazy thinking about Mulder arching up eagerly to meet Krycek's thrusts, about the sounds he'd made, about the expression on his face when he'd come, now he could think only of the Mulder he had seen last. Broken. Despondent. Shaking in his arms. Refusing to cry. Defying Walter to leave. He'd wanted to be alone, and Walter had thought, in spite of everything, it was the least he could do. Now he wondered at the gleam in his lover's eyes when he'd left, so different from the emptiness that had been there when he'd arrived. The fight was back in Mulder, incredibly. Why hadn't he come in to work?

He started when his doorbell rang. It was after one. Who the hell was it? He shuffled to the door and threw it open without the slightest caution. Mulder stood in the doorway, grinning, wearing black jeans, black sweater, black bomber jacket. His adventure outfit. His eyes were still shadowed, but he was sex personified anyway, and Walter was having a hard time looking past that.

"What's going on?" Mulder brushed past him, stripping off his jacket and tossing it over Walter's sofa. "Where have you been?" The agent continued to ignore him and bent and removed his boots and socks. "What are you doing?"

Mulder trapped Walter with his eyes and prowled toward him wearing a seductive smile. He yanked his sweater over his head as he went. The AD swallowed. This was not Mulder. Maybe a clone, maybe a shape-shifter, hell, maybe it was a hallucination brought on by too many reruns of "Melrose Place." But this was definitely not Mulder. The agent's advance never faltered, even as he dropped his pants and stepped out of them. Walter backed away. Mulder kept coming. He moved like an animal, slowly, deliberately, as if waiting to pounce and looking to pick his moment. The AD's breath quickened. His blood quickened, too. He couldn't let this happen. But could he prevent it?

His back hit the wall and Mulder was on him, seizing him, possessing him. Rough hands tore the clothing from his body. Mulder kissed him like he'd been plotting it all his life. The agent caressed his chest as if he could feel it himself, gently pinching Walter's nipples as he plunged his tongue into the AD's ear.

"*Mulder.*" His voice came out in a humiliating yelp. Mulder ground their hips together sensuously, bracing his hands against the wall, nipping at Walter's throat. "Mulder." He'd overcompensated. He sounded like Orson Welles.

"Touch me," Mulder said.

"No."

"Touch me, Walter." He bent his head to take a nipple in his mouth.

"Three days ago you never wanted to have sex... to have... Mulder..."

He shot the AD a wicked smile. "Are you going to finish that sentence?"

"Bastard."

Mulder sank to his knees, kissing along the insides of Walter's thighs. "Touch me," he breathed. His lips were a fraction away from the AD's cock.

"You don't know what you're doing."

"Is that a critique?" He kissed the head, opening his mouth just enough to tease. Walter slumped against the wall.

"Don't..."

Mulder sucked Walter's cock into his mouth, working it with his tongue, hie teeth, his lips. The AD bucked helplessly, moaning, his hands hovering just above Mulder's head. The agent massaged his thighs, milked his balls. Walter slid down his throat. He swallowed repeatedly, sucking harder now. He slipped a finger into his mouth and released Walter's thighs to work it into the AD's ass.

"Mulder, come on."

The agent didn't even slow down. His finger slid into Walter's ass, and the AD's resolve evaporated. His hands gripped Mulder's head. He rocked his hips in counter-rhythm to that questing mouth. Mulder's finger scraped lightly across his prostate. Walter moaned, pleading for something but too incoherent to properly verbalize it. Mulder was merciless, adding a second finger, sucking harder, letting Walter guide him only when it suited him. Twice the AD came close to orgasm, and twice Mulder withdrew just enough to inspire real obscenity from his lover. Walter's orgasm hit him suddenly, unexpectedly, wave after wave. He no longer cared if Mulder gagged on him. He had to prolong this, and that was all that mattered. Mulder continued his assault, determined to wring from him every last spasm. When it was over, he collapsed against the wall, panting. Mulder straightened. He gave Walter a quick kiss and left him there, loping away naked to parts unknown.

*It's too soon. This can't be right.*

He hadn't yet caught his breath when Mulder returned, a tube of lubricant in his hand. "Mulder, you've just been through a horrible experience."

He smiled. "I don't know. You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

"You know what I'm talking about."

Mulder kissed him again, gentler now. Coaxing. Walter was helpless. He had vowed to deny Mulder nothing, and this was something that under most circumstances he would have been more than happy to supply.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

The AD searched his eyes. He *looked* sure. But Mulder had enough nightmares as it was, and he didn't want to contribute any more than he already did on a day-to-day basis at the office. Mulder smiled, just then, a beautiful, heart-breaking smile. And from that point on, there was no hope for Walter. He snaked his arms around Mulder's waist and pulled him close.

"I found Krycek," he murmured against Walter's neck. 

"*What?*"

"Don't get crazy." He gripped Walter's shoulders and turned him around. "I didn't kill him." Mulder rubbed his back, worked what little tension remained from the AD's flesh.

"Why the hell not?"

"I'm not a killer," he said, running his lips along the Walter's spine. "Neither are you."

"I'll learn."

"No." Mulder slid a finger into Walter's ass, gently stretching him, thrusting back and forth. The AD pushed against his hand, sighing. "It's the only thing that separates us from primates, Walter. The only thing."

"Mulder..." 

The agent withdrew his hand. Walter felt his cock pressing against him. Mulder slowly began to push inside. "He's in my apartment," he said on a gasp. "Handcuffed to my bed."

"What... what did you do?" Mulder's arms wrapped around his torso. He pulled out, pushed in, as if the slightest miscalculation would ruin everything. Before too long, they'd found a rhythm.

"We talked," he moaned. "I roughed him up a bit."

"Faster..."

Mulder stepped up his tempo, stroking Walter's cock. "I didn't feel anything," he said. "Not a twinge." His movements were clumsier now. His excitement was besting him. "Oh God, Walter..."

Their hips slammed together. By now all thoughts that Mulder might be feeling something lacking had fled him. The agent was wild, crushing him against the wall, muttering incoherently. The AD was going to have a sore chest in the morning, but it hardly mattered in the face of this. Something had set Mulder off, and he didn't give a flying fuck what it was. He was just glad it wasn't Krycek.

"I'm going to come again," he moaned.

"At your age?"

"Fuck you, Mulder."

The agent bit his neck and thrust faster, harder, stroking him furiously. Walter stiffened. His second orgasm of the night. Second of the hour, in fact. It was a goddamned miracle. He felt Mulder explode inside him. They almost crumpled from the impact. Mulder held him tightly, breathing into his neck. After a long moment, he pulled out of Walter and turned him around, raining kisses over his face, his neck, his throat.

"If you think you're going to make me come *again...*"

Mulder kissed him on the mouth now. Probably to shut him up. "Thank-you," he said.

"Any time." The agent rested his forehead against Walter's shoulder. Walter held him tightly. "What are you going to do about Krycek?"

"Turn him in, I guess."

"Somebody will spring him out."

"I don't think so. Somebody might kill him, though."

"Better them than you, is that it? It's a little morally ambiguous, don't you think?"

Mulder glared at him. "You have a better idea?"

"Let me have a talk with him. Something will occur to me, I'm sure."

"I don't think so."

"I do. Get dressed."

Mulder did as instructed. By the time Walter had finished cleaning up, he looked as if they had been doing nothing more strenuous or suggestive than spelling naughty words on the Scrabble board. They took Mulder's car for the drive back to his place, but Mulder needn't have run all those red lights or broken all those speed limits. By the time they reached his apartment, all that remained of Krycek was Mulder's handcuffs, still affixed to the headboard.


End file.
